


just what i thought you were gonna do

by coraxes



Series: we'll all float on alright [2]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, background eiffera, why wasn't there already a tag for eiffel/lovelace friendship??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coraxes/pseuds/coraxes
Summary: Lovelace has a list.  It’s lying on her desk in plain sight, the paper worn and stained, written on in various different colors of ink and pencil.  At the top in thick block print are the words, “REASONS EIFFEL IS A TERRIBLE ROOMMATE.”





	just what i thought you were gonna do

**Author's Note:**

> This is in my post-canon fluffverse. All you need to know is: Lovelace, Eiffel, Hera, Minkowski and Jacobi survived and returned to Earth; Kepler and Cutter died. The good guys got a shitton of money by suing Goddard Futuristics and Lovelace, Eiffel, and Hera got a house together. Minkowski lives with her husband.
> 
> Title is from the Barenaked Ladies' "One Week." Thank you, official W359 playlist!
> 
> I also made a very self-indulgent playlist for this series. It's [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/placidusaria/playlist/1EEz3JCsN72kOsmBEQk437).

Lovelace has a list.  It’s lying on her desk in plain sight, the paper worn and stained, written on in various different colors of ink and pencil.  At the top in thick block print are the words, “REASONS EIFFEL IS A TERRIBLE ROOMMATE.”

“Not that I couldn’t have guessed that,” Minkowski asks when she spots the list during one of her frequent visits, “but why do you need a list?”

Lovelace glances over.  “So one day I’ll be able to convince myself to move out,” she says dryly. 

* * *

**1\. Never Cleans Anything**

Lovelace isn’t a neat freak by any means--especially now that she’s home, with no superior officer or military life to get her to clean her own space.  Her room could always use some tidying.  But she _is_ an adult, and she knows how to do her own dishes and laundry and sweep the kitchen floor.

Unlike Eiffel, who seems content to live in a stink pit. 

Finally, one day, Lovelace looks at the dirt trail Eiffel left from the door to the living room couch, where he is currently planted.  And throws a broom at him.

“Wha--?”

“Eiffel, you are nearly forty goddamn years old,” she says, and points.  “ _Clean it._ ”

**2\. The Music**

Lovelace loves music.  _Loves_ music.  After she makes it back to Earth, she thinks she’ll never get tired of hearing all music, any music, from old favorites to the top forty hits she missed while she was trying not to die.  She sings at the top of her lungs every time she’s in the car.   She runs in the mornings with her headphones in, feet hitting the pavement in time with the beat, half-chanting lyrics under her breath.

But everyone has lines.  And her line is Eiffel’s 342nd (she’d asked Hera) replay of Carly Rae Jepsen’s E·MO·TION at its highest volume.

**3\. Gets Into My Business**

“Hey,” Lovelace says, glaring at Eiffel as he pulls the mostly-empty bottle from her hands.  “That’s _mine._ ”

Eiffel rolls his eyes and holds it away from her. Lovelace reaches out but suddenly the couch isn’t _there_ anymore and she falls with a shriek.  The wood floor is cool against her face, and she’s staring at Eiffel’s fuzzy purple socks. 

“You should really give that back,” she says, rolling onto her back so she can look at him.  “I _neeeeed_ my vodka, Eiffel.”

“Why?”

What a dumb question.  Stupid dumb Eiffel and his dumb questions.  “ _Space.”_ She thrusts out a finger, poking him accusingly in the knee.  “And I am your--your _commanding officer._ Gimme.”

Eiffel looks up at the ceiling like he expects Hera to do something.  Stupid.   _Hera_ is nice enough to not have vodka-stealing hands.  “We’ll have this conversation when you’re sober,” he says, and leaves with her bottle of vodka.  Lovelace thinks about following him, but--really, it’s too much trouble when you can’t float.

**4\. That One Time He Got Hera To Dirty-Talk To Him And She Accidentally Broadcasted It On All Her Speakers**

Enough said.

**5\. His Cooking**

Lovelace cannot cook.  It’s something she has accepted about herself.  Her culinary skills extend to toast and coffee, and that’s about it. 

She is also secure in the knowledge that, essentially, anything Eiffel can do, she can do better.  It’s a fact of life.  Until one day Eiffel declares that it’s pizza night.  Lovelace assumes he’s ordering until he starts mixing up dough for the crust.

“Are you…sure about that?” Lovelace asks.  “This is a nice house, Eiffel.  I don’t want to find a new one.”

“Oh ye of little faith.”

She spends the whole night waiting for him to fail, until she takes a bite of pineapple and ham.

 _That motherfucker,_ Lovelace thinks.

“You okay there, Captain?” Eiffel asks.  “Tone down the laser eyes.”

It’s delicious.

**6\. Doesn’t Knock**

“Eiffel,” she says, very slowly, resting her forehead against her now-closed bathroom door and trying to suppress her murderous rage, “we are never talking about this again.”

“Good idea,” Eiffel squeaks.  She hears his footsteps as he runs down the hallway.

**7\. The Smoking**

As soon as they get back to Earth, Eiffel starts chain-smoking like his life depends on it.  If Lovelace ever wanted to take up smoking, the constant stench of cigarettes squashes it.

“Look, I’ve got almost ten years of lost time to make up for,” he says around one cigarette.  “I tried to take the edge off on the _Hephaestus_ but Minkowski was all _no, Eiffel, you could blow up the station_.  Tyrant.”

“You’re going to give yourself cancer.  More importantly, you’re going to give _me_ cancer.”

Eiffel raises an eyebrow.  “Can we even _get_ cancer anymore?”

Lovelace suspects not, but she doesn’t plan to test it.

**8\. Giant Hypocrite**

“Look, I get the whole running-away-from-your-family thing, but you _know_ you can’t keep it up forever.”

Lovelace picks at her takeout and stares straight ahead.  “Lieutenant Colonel Lovelace has made it pretty clear that we’re _not_ family, so.”  The whole alien clone thing is a dealbreaker for her dad.  Shocker.

“Yeah. _Just_ him.  Lovelace, I _get_ it.  But you don’t even have to talk to him--your mom, or, or your sister--”

She glares at him.  God, she hates when Eiffel tries to be reasonable.  “That’s rich, coming from you.  How’s Anne doing?  Heard from her lately?”

Eiffel shoots her a glare, hot and hurt, but he drops it.  Lovelace tries to feel a little more satisfied.

* * *

“So why don’t you move out?” Minkowski asks.  “None of us are hurting for money.  You could buy your own place.”

It’s not like Lovelace hasn’t thought of it.  She spent years cooped up on a station with other people; by all rights, she _should_ want her own space.  No pun intended.

“You remember when I bought an RV after the lawsuit?” Lovelace asks.  She hadn’t asked anyone to come with her; just spent days travelling the road and stopping at diners where she didn’t know anyone.  For three nights she had lain awake in her bunk and seen ghosts from the corner of her eyes.  On night three the ghost had been Selberg--Hilbert--whoever the fuck he was, reminding her that it had all been for nothing, he’d run his experiments and killed her crew and the whole time Goddard had known it was a waste.

She had driven home the next morning.

“Yeah,” says Minkowski.

“Being alone didn’t work out,” says Lovelace.   She shrugs.  “Eiffel gets it.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are <3.


End file.
